Amissis Memoria
by Exhilaro
Summary: HP/DM. The initial shock of seeing their Golden Boy with an ex-Death Eater had subsided years ago, people quickly noticing how Draco acted around Harry and how much they apparently loved each other. But when Draco gets taken, Harry wonders if it was worth it. WARNINGS: sexual content, violence, bad language, character death. This is not a happy fic.


"_Life is all about moments, and how they change our lives forever. It's these moments that become our history, like our own greatest hits of memories that we play and replay in our minds over and over again. The moment of impact. The moment of impact proves potential for change. Has ripples effects far beyond what we can predict. Sending some particles crashing together. Making them closer than before. While sending others spinning off into great ventures. Landing them where you've never thought you've found them. That's the thing about moments like these. You can't, no matter how hard you try, controlling how it's going to affect you. You just got to let the colliding part goes where they may. And wait. For the next collision._

_These moments of impact, these flashes of high intensity that completely turn our lives upside down, actually end up defining who we are._

_But what if one day, we can no longer remember any of them?"_

* * *

**Song used for this story: Losing Your Memory by Ryan Star**

* * *

Draco was in pain.

He still wondered why he was surprised whenever he felt it, because it had the tendency to hang around him like air. He could feel it all the time, sometimes a small burn, sometimes an all-consuming feeling that left his mind blank and body limp. He had stopped fighting them a long time ago. His throat still burned from screaming as much as he did when they had just caught him. He had learned to suffer in silence.

He couldn't remember how long he had been here. It was small, and damp, and it smelled like despair, and death. Draco could hear others, too. Sometimes he wanted to shout at them, to make sure they knew they weren't alone, and to know he wasn't alone. But he wasn't even certain if the people and noise were real, or a figment of his imagination to make this, whatever this was, more bearable. So he let the pain come, and he didn't scream, or cry, or beg. Not anymore.

* * *

"They've had him for two _months, _Hermione!" Harry was pacing back and forward through the small living room of the Burrow, his hands in his hair, his eyes wide, filled with an emotion no one could name. Despair didn't cover it, not even close.

"If I don't find him soon – "

"Harry! Listen to me!" Hermione gripped his shoulders so tightly it hurt. But he welcomed the pain. It kept him grounded, somehow.

"You're not going to help him in any way, if you're not at your best at tonight's mission! If you fail, if they catch us, _too_..." Hermione stopped mid-sentence, her voice quivering. Even she was scared for Draco.

So Harry stopped talking, and ran outside, running as far away from all the sympathetic faces, all the familiar faces, the faces of his family, he ran as far as he could.

Draco was everywhere for him. In his veins, his heart, his lungs, his head. His heart thudded to the beat of the song Draco sang whenever he was in the shower. The air around him smelled like Draco's expensive cologne, mixed with his vanilla scented shampoo. His skin felt warmed by Draco's skin, not by the sun. He could feel him everywhere, and for Harry, it was agonizing to carry those memories with him. His life with Draco, before he had been taken, was the best part of his life, and always would be. He wished he hadn't known love like that, or learned to lust after someone like that, and everything else Draco made him feel, because he couldn't relive the memories, he didn't want to remember, not anymore. He didn't want to be introduced to this life filled with emotions he didn't even know had existed if it was going to be taken away from him later. He'd rather have lived a boring life with Ginny, if it was going to hurt this much with Draco gone.

It was too painful, to see Draco whenever he closed his eyes, only to realise the Draco in his mind didn't do the real Draco justice. He often wondered why Draco was never the way he imagined him to be, and he guessed that was simply because Draco was flawed, never perfect, and ever changing. And that's why Harry loved him.

* * *

_**Before**_

* * *

Harry wasn't sure if he had ever met someone as infuriating as Draco Malfoy. The smirk on his face was possibly the most maddening thing Harry had ever seen, and that included the way Draco laughed at him when he lost a game of chess.

"Draco, you know I don't like it when you look at me like that", Harry stated matter-of-factly, still battling with his tie. They were in a Muggle shop, but that was the extent of Harry's knowledge. Draco had told him they sold the best suits here, but he couldn't really tell. All he knew is that they cost a lot of money.

"That's why I look at you like that, Potter." Draco's eyes seemed to change whenever he looked at Harry, his emotions constantly shifting. He reached out to smooth the tie, then sighed and started undoing the knots to redo them himself.

"Why are we here, again? I'm not wearing a Muggle suit to a Ministry banquet, you know that."

"It is to make a statement, Harry, nothing more. Muggle clothing for you and me means that we would be breaking yet another tradition set by Magic society." Draco laughed quietly. "Though I think us coming together as a couple and you kissing me in front of the cameras already broke enough unwritten rules in their book."

Harry laughed with him, remembering that night, almost six months ago.

* * *

_**Before**_

* * *

Draco never begged, or cried, or changed his opinion. He had his pride, and he wore it like a cloak. People either admired him for it, or hated him for it, and he didn't care which path people chose. He was himself, after all those years of being pushed and directed by his father, by Voldemort.

Coming out as gay was the first thing he did after the war was over. He had hoped to shock people, to make people see he still mattered, even if his father was dead and he didn't live in Malfoy Manor anymore. Unfortunately, Harry fucking Potter was spotted with his lips sealed to rent boy two days later, and people soon forgot all about him. No one cared about him, when the Golden Boy was engaging in scandalous behaviour with a prostitute.

It had pissed him off beyond anyone's comprehension. His friends didn't understand why he _wanted_ people to make a fuss over his sexuality.

But it seemed like Potter understood.

Two weeks after the photo of Potter and the nameless Muggle had popped up in the Prophet, there was a knock on the door.

Draco had just gotten out of the shower and his hair was still wet. He put a towel around his waist, and grabbed another one to attempt and dry his hair. When he opened the door, he only needed a quick look to see who it was, and he slammed it shut, right in Potter's face.

"Malfoy! Can you please, pretty please, open this door?"

"No. Get the hell away from my doorstep." Draco moved through his living room, pouring himself a drink. He had no intention of ever seeing Harry James Potter again, after he had stood up for him and his mother at the trials of the Death Eaters. After Potter had given him his wand back, Draco made sure he would never run into The Boy Who Lived. The Prophet had made it easier for him to avoid Potter, since they spend most of their time following Potter around. He had always despised the fact that Potter used his fame and name to get to places.

And he sounded drunk. The last thing he needed was vomit on his carpet.

Then there was a blast and his front door was blown to pieces, and Potter made his way through the living room, moving toward Draco without pausing, and repairing his door on the way. When stood in front of him, he didn't say anything. Draco looked down at Potter and raised a questioning eyebrow, because he failed to understand what Potter wanted from him.

"I'm here to make a proposal."

"Make it quick then, I have a busy night planned." Draco yawned, not informing Potter of the fact he was going to spend his night in bed reading his favourite book.

"You want to show people that you can be independent without your dad, that your Mark doesn't make you a corrupt individual, and that you can be yourself. Am I correct?" Potter didn't even pause, knowing that he was speaking the truth and that his statement didn't need verification. That irritated Draco, and he felt a muscle in his jaw twitch.

"Why don't we get together? As a couple, I mean. We can pretend to go out." Potter grinned at him, and Draco was stunned. Of all the proposals he imagined Potter to offer him, he had expected maybe a quick shag, but that was simply because he was irresistible. But pretending to be a couple? They hated each other, and everybody knew that. They fought against each other in the war, and hell, Draco had tried to kill Dumbledore, for fuck's sake.

It was perfect.

So Draco smirked, and nodded. He placed his glass on the table, and he sat down in one of the chairs.

"How do you want to do this? I mean, we can't just come out and say it. We have to be seen together first, or people will get suspicious."

And then Potter lunged himself at him, and he was pushed backwards in his chair, and Potter was kissing him, and he kissed him back.

He hadn't expected to feel so much when Potter had kissed him. He hadn't expected the moment to become so full of life, and passion, and lust. And maybe, just maybe, underneath the exploring fingers and hot breaths, there was love, too. Maybe it had been right there from the very beginning, when a young, foolish boy met an innocent boy, and they didn't understand each other well enough to realise how alike they were.

Potter wasn't very good at kissing, Draco found quickly, but that was possibly because he was really, really drunk. So Draco took the lead, lifting his hands and treading them in Potter's dark hair, moving his face in an angle that allowed him to kiss Potter better, deeper, and soon Potter was straddling him, his legs tightly gripping to Draco's thighs, and his hands clinging Draco's wrists.

Draco wrenched his face away, taking a moment to catch his breath and to study Potter's face a bit more carefully.

"Are you going to remember this tomorrow?" Draco hated how breathless his voice sounded.

"Probably not."

And then they were kissing again, and Draco forgot to ask Potter what he wanted from this arrangement.

* * *

_**The morning after**_

* * *

It was exasperating how well Potter knew to push his buttons, annoying him immensely by just looking at him.

Potter had not remembered his proposal, or the kissing, so Draco told him, and he wanted to know if Potter was a better kisser when he was sober.

But when he kissed Potter, he felt him tense, and he felt like an idiot for believing Potter would want him when he was in his right state of mind. So he stood up from his chair, walked to his bedroom, and slammed the door behind him, anger and shame washing over him.

He heard the front door open and close, and the soft click from the lock shifting in place. Draco wondered why he reacted so strongly to Potter, like he always had done, from the very first day they met. He said the wrong things, acted the wrong way, and he never seemed to do anything right in Potter's presence. He just wanted Potter to truly _see _him for the person he was now.

Then he heard a knock on the door, knocks that were soft, and then harder, louder, interrupting the quiet of his home. And Draco didn't think, because he knew what to do, and what he wanted. He almost ran to the door, twisting the knob with sweaty hands, throwing it open, and reaching out to Potter, grabbing him by the collar and pushing him against the wall next to the door.

Potter looked almost frightened, but he let Draco do whatever it was he was doing, and then Draco forgot everything and just _kissed_ him, his soft lips colliding with Potter's chapped ones, and the roughness from the friction gave him goose bumps.

He pulled Potter closer to him, and Potter let out a muffled moan, putting his hands on Draco's shoulders to pull him nearer.

"So we have a deal?" Potter whispered softly, when he backed away slightly to breathe for a moment.

Draco just kissed him again. He wanted to rip Potter's clothes of right there, and explore Potter's skin with his fingers and mouth, but Draco was trembling, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why, so he resigned to following the line of Potter's neck and collarbone with his hands. Potter didn't seem to agree with that, because he kissed him harder, and it felt like Potter wrapped himself around Draco, because Potter was filling all his senses, and he could smell the booze and cologne, Draco noticed his whole body respond when Potter grounded his hips against his, his strength meeting Draco's, pushing Draco back.

He felt his legs crash against his couch, and he fell backward, dragging Potter with him. Potter was reaching for the buttons of his shirt, and Draco was reaching for his, and then their skin was touching, and _fuck_, Harry's skin felt perfect on his, hot and just right. He dragged his mouth across Harry's neckline, his hot breath softly skating over his skin, and Harry started to tremble as much as he was.

He needed to know why Potter had come to him now. He just couldn't believe this was actually happening.

"Why are you doing this?" Draco whispered it against his skin, not trusting his voice enough to speak any louder.

"Because I couldn't think of anyone else to annoy people, to show them I am really gay, to show them I'm not as perfect as they think I am. Because you get under my skin, like always. Because it has always been you, in the back of my mind, just like it was in our sixth year, and after the war. Because I needed to know how it felt like to be touched by you, since that is all I have been thinking about since I heard you were gay, too. Because –" Draco knew enough, and he latched his lips on Potter's neck, licking, sucking, biting until Potter, no, Harry, couldn't say anything else but his name, trembling and trashing beneath him, and Draco wondered when he had gotten underneath him, and how they had ended up on the floor. He found that he didn't care.

He reached for his wand, and then they were both completely naked. And the sight before him took his breath away. Harry's skin was blemished with scars, but Draco didn't have time to care. He laid before him, legs spread, his erection on his stomach, twitching every now and then. His dark nipples were a very strange in contrast to his pale skin. Draco panted heavily, closing his eyes so as calm his arousal, but failing miserably, the picture in front of him etched in his mind. Then he stood up, offering his hand to Harry, to haul him up and to drag him to his bedroom.

Draco let himself fall on his sheets, his limbs sprawled over his bed. He expected Harry to join him, but when he didn't hear or feel movement, he cracked an eye open. Harry watched him silently, his mouth open, and he licked his lips unconsciously. He muttered something under his breath, his hands clenched into tight fists, his knuckles turned white.

"I've never done this before." And Draco wasn't sure if he heard it correctly, so he sat up straight, reached out and pulled Harry toward him by his hips. Harry's erection nudged against Draco's cheek, and Draco moved his face to the side to place a soft kiss on the head of his cock. Harry trusted forward slightly, and Draco smirked. Harry's body knew how to react, even if his mind didn't. So Draco took Harry's erection in his mouth, trailed his tongue down the length. Harry moaned loudly and his breathing came out in hard and shallow pants, inhaling and exhaling quickly, and he tried to find support to keep his legs from giving out on him. Draco pulled him closer, taking Harry's hands into his and placing them on his head, and Harry's fingers immediately threaded through his blond strands, holding onto his head like it is a lifeline.

And _God,_ oh dear God, this is even better then he imagined this to be. Harry's skin felt hot beneath his hands, and soft, and it's almost like Draco can feel his heartbeat pulsating under his skin. His fingers travelled down Harry's spine, following the curve of his back and arse, and then he focused on the hard and throbbing erection he currently has his lips wrapped around. He looked up at Harry's face, and he let out a moan when Harry just grabbed his head harder, tightening the grip on his hair, and then he trusted forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of Draco's throat, and it's too much. Draco moved his head away from Harry's erection and grabbed him securely by the waist, dragging him down on the bed and he covered Harry's body with his own, their skin touching everywhere, and Harry wrapped his arms around his shoulders and back, pulling him closer, kissing the skin of his neck and shoulder. Draco shuddered.

It's too much, but not enough.

"You have never been with a man, or with anyone in general?" Draco's voice sounded hoarse and low.

"With a man. The photo in the Prophet was a mere experience to see what it would be like." Draco raised an eyebrow. His image of the pure and naive Golden Boy was surely shattered now.

"So you kiss a _rent boy_?"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time." Harry chuckled, the sound sounding low and thick, like it cost him a lot to push it out. He let his head fall back on the mattress, untangling his limbs from Draco, and Draco went cold. Numbness overcame him and hit him like a violent wave, and he had to close his eyes to pull himself together.

He didn't understand why anyone would want to be friends with him, let alone sleep with him. Because no matter what he does, he always chose the wrong side. He's moody, and lonely, and tired, and maybe even a little bit broken. And now, after all those years, he had that one thing that he always thought he could never have, but dreamed about nonetheless. But he can't expect this to be more than it is. He can't put his heart into this, like he always imagined he would, since Harry was the only one that fascinated him long enough to hate him for eight years. But somewhere along the way, the dynamics of their bond changed, and they could have been friends, or maybe more, sooner. He shouldn't let pride get in his way, but he can't help himself to wonder if this is just an act, or a dream, and that when he lets himself believe that it is truly Harry Potter in his bed who wants him just as much as he wants him, nothing of himself will remain when it ends. He won't survive it. But he had agreed to pretend to be his boyfriend, they didn't _need_ to shag. He didn't understand why Harry seemed to be just as infatuated with him.

But Harry didn't seem to notice the change in his mood, or maybe he did but ignored him, because he gripped his wrists tightly and pulled him closer to his own body, one hand reaching up to angle his face in the right way. He kissed him hard, tongues meeting half-way, and they are both lost again.

Harry rolled his hips against Draco's, and they grunt. Harry moved his mouth to Draco's neck, placing wet kisses to all the skin he could reach, then pushing Draco on his back so that he can kiss him in more places. His mouth followed the line of his collarbone, his chest, his nipples, and moved down his shoulders, and down to his left forearm, and Draco wanted to weep, because that place on his body doesn't deserve attention like that.

Then Harry placed a light kiss on his stomach, and he looked up and smiled at him.

"Are you top or bottom?" Harry whispered it quietly against his hip, stroking his sides with his fingers.

"I don't care. Whatever makes you comfortable." Draco lifted his hand and pushed some hair away from Harry's forehead.

"I want you to fuck me." Harry's voice sounded muffled because his lips are touching the base of Draco's erection, and Draco couldn't reply, he just can't find the strength. All that came from his mouth are gasps and Harry's name, his beautiful name, and Draco lifted his head to look at his face, that strong face, the smiling lips and heavy-lidded eyes that closed completely when Harry reached the tip of Draco's cock, inhaling the scent of him. Draco was sure that he won't last two seconds with Harry looking like that, so he reached for his hair and pulled him up, and then rolled over, ending on top.

He couldn't find his wand, so he reached for the nightstand to get some lube, eyeing Harry's reaction when he sat back. Harry just smiled. Draco kissed him again, reaching down to take Harry's cock in his hand. He stroked the sensitive shaft slowly, to keep him distracted from what is to come. Draco just wanted it to make as pleasurable as possible, even though he knew pain is almost inevitable. He slides down Harry's body, his fingers following the lines of his body, tracing scars and feeling his warmth.

"Lift your legs", Draco whispered, only focusing on the task at hand and not at the sight in front of him. He might come spontaneously if he focused on the way Harry holds his breath in anticipation, his flushed face and open mouth, lips swollen with the strength of their kisses. His pale chest, rising and falling, his fists clenched in the sheets to keep himself grounded. His flat, muscled stomach, the line of hair from his navel to his erection, spilling pre-come from the tip, twitching violently. All of this for him. Draco let his head fall down and kissed the insides of Harry's thighs, sucking on the spot where his legs meet his groin, chuckling when Harry trashes underneath him.

He grabbed the lube, took of the cap and poured the liquid on his fingers, not even warming it before reaching down and running his fingers over his own length, coating his erection with the thick liquid. He hissed when the cold hits his skin, but he didn't even care because it allowed him to focus. Then he shifted his weight to his knees, his fingers softly grasping Harry's feet and placing them on his shoulders.

He expected, that when he had finally had a chance to see Harry Potter naked, it would have been frenzied and passionate, fast and blurry. But he could see everything with crystal clarity, and he couldn't make himself move any faster. He couldn't stop touching Harry's skin, he couldn't stop from smiling. He hated himself for not being more on guard, but he just couldn't stop showing himself.

He squeezed some of the lube on his fingers again, rubbing his fingers together to warm the liquid up.

"Harry. Are you sure?" His eyes were squeezed shut and Draco desperately wanted to see his eyes. He reached over and took his glasses from his face, and Harry opened his eyes to look at him, his eyes soft and wide and so fucking _green_. Draco moved his fingers down to Harry's entrance, before he would lose his nerve. He could feel his eyes on him, and suddenly, Harry moved his feet down to the mattress, and sits up, tightening his legs on Draco's waist, encircling him as to stop him from moving away.

Then he lifted his hand, and his finger reached for the thin lines on his chest, the silver scars that start at his shoulders, move down to his chest, and ending half-way down his stomach on his sides, and Harry traced the scars slowly, his head resting against Draco's chest. Draco's breath hitched in his throat, and he had to remind himself that breathing is important. Then Harry raised his head, and looked at him, and he _looks_ at him, and he _sees _him, he sees who he is, and what he wants, and what he is scared of, and how this is so fucking terrifying but so fucking good at the same time, and Draco _sees_ Harry too, his eyebrows frowning slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching, his breathing shallow, and quick, and uneven, and his eyes are _showing him _how he is sorry, but Draco didn't care, because it's not important anymore. So he just leaned down and kissed him, his hands gripping Harry's arms and pushing him back down.

And he's not nervous anymore. Draco kissed, bit, licked and sucked his way down Harry's body, and then he slipped one finger inside him. Harry groaned, and the sound seemed to resonate in the room. Draco didn't move his finger, he just continued kissing until Harry moved down himself, and then Draco added another finger, and Harry just trashed underneath him, his spine arching and his fists clenching the sheets, and Draco grinned. Then Harry's hand grabbed his neck and pulled him down to ground his lips down on his own, and their groans and moans and names are lost on each other's lips. Draco added another finger, wanting to stretch Harry as much as possible.

"Do it now, please." Harry whispered it softly against his mouth. Draco pulled back, and reached for the lube again, pouring more on his own erection, also to make sure he will last just that second longer. He positioned himself between Harry's legs, but then looked at his face and makes a quick decision.

He rolled over to end up on his back, and he pulled Harry with him, his face in his chest. Harry ended up straddling him, his hands placed on Draco's chest. The sight of Harry smiling down at him, his face flushed and hair messy was so incredibly astonishing Draco was frozen in place for a moment. Then he blinked, and smiled.

"I just thought it'd be better if you set your own pace." Draco didn't recognise his own voice. It came out as a whisper.

Harry didn't reply back, he just moved down to rub himself against Draco's erection, and Draco moaned loudly, he almost found it embarrassing. He grabbed Harry by the hips, helping him get into position. Then he took his cock by the base and moved it so it nudged against Harry's entrance, and Harry moved down slightly.

"Oh fuck Draco, _fuck."_ He was muttering under his breath, random words falling out of his mouth, hissing, moaning, and then he moved down more and the head of Draco's cock was inside him, and Draco found himself biting his lip so hard that he could taste blood. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to move his hips up or reach out and push Harry down on him.

But Harry seemed to read his mind and without warning, he pushed down in one quick movement, fully taking in all of Draco. And then he shuddered, and Draco stayed very, very still. He slowly lifted his hand and stroked the skin that was closest to him, softly grazing his nipples and the bite marks Draco had made earlier.

"How badly does it hurt?"

"Just stay still." Draco moved his hand down to Harry's erection, that seemed to have subsided a little, and then he moved slightly to change the angle.

"Fuck _Draco,_ I just –" And Draco trailed his nail across the tip of Harry's erection, and Harry was moving all of a sudden, and Draco realised he had raised his hips and his hands were on Harry's hips, and everything was moving and it felt too good, too good to last long. Harry was panting, his eyes screwed shut, muttering Draco's name over and over and over until he finally screamed it, spilling his come over Draco's hand and onto his stomach and chest. Then Draco lifted Harry up and rolled him over, pounding himself into him. Harry clung to him and almost sobbed and Draco kissed him hard, and then his whole body was jerking violently, his toes curling and spine curving.

He whispered Harry's name softly.

* * *

_**Now**_

* * *

Draco screamed, and cried, and begged, forgetting to be silent.

* * *

Harry wondered why this was happening now. Why had they taken him now? They had been together for five years. The initial shock of seeing their Golden Boy with an ex-Death Eater had subsided years ago, people quickly noticing how Draco acted around Harry and how much they apparently loved each other. Some people had found it hard to digest, but most had just moved on with their lives.

Harry had never truly believed that the war would end the moment Voldemort died. But it seemed that way. All the Death Eaters that had followed him were either arrested, murdered, or had fled the country.

He should have known he was right.

* * *

_**Before**_

* * *

"Harry."

Harry looked up from his book, smiling when he noticed Draco standing in the doorway. He closed the book and put it on his coffee table, then quickly rose to cover the distance between himself and Draco.

"Harry, I talked to – " Harry didn't let him finish. He pressed his lips against Draco's, tugging him inside his flat and kicking the door shut behind him.

He pulled back and smiled at Draco's flushed face.

"I talked to my parents. My father has disowned me."

Harry's face lost its beam. He reached up to touch Draco's cheek, skating his thumb across his cheekbone. Draco revelled in his closeness. It had taken Harry a while to get used to them touching, and Draco loved it when it felt like there were no boundaries.

"Move in with me."

* * *

_**Before**_

* * *

They had taken Draco when he was about to leave for work. They always had the same morning routine, and that had been their downfall. They showered together, got dressed together, because Draco wanted Harry to look acceptable and that couldn't happen if he dressed himself. Then they had breakfast together, cleaned the dishes together, usually in the Muggle way to spend a little more time together before work, and then Harry Apparated to his job.

But this particular morning, Harry had forgotten to check the wards surrounding their flat. He used them so that uninvited people couldn't come knocking on his door, their door, and he checked them every morning. Harry just closed the door to their bedroom when he heard something shatter, and Draco cursing. He remembered calling out to Draco.

He doesn't remember any more. He doesn't remember if he went inside to check if everything was okay. He doesn't remember if he left. He doesn't remember if he saw Draco one last time before he was taken. He doesn't remember if he told him he loved him that morning.

He just remembers screaming Draco's name over and over again, until his throat was raw.

* * *

_**After**_

* * *

When they find him, Harry isn't sure if he should be happy or sad. Because the person that looks at him with grey eyes isn't Draco.

* * *

"Do I know you?"

And Harry wants to die.

* * *

He doesn't come out of his house for weeks. He only eats when friends visit and almost force food down his throat. He hears people knock on his door, their door, but he doesn't care.

He hears about the Wizarding world slowly turning into chaos, because Death Eaters are regrouping and reinforcing their place in society. They chase after Purebloods who betrayed him, Voldemort. They started with Draco, but that was only the beginning. But Harry can't make himself care. He misses Draco so much he doesn't feel anything anymore. He just wants to forget he ever loved him. Feeling this pain was not worth it.

He can't make himself see Draco, knowing Draco doesn't remember him. Hermione drops by with updates on his condition, but Harry can't make himself listen. His life feels empty, but he can't make himself care. All he wants is to feel Draco's arms around him.

Harry just wants to forget.

"They found this in his pocket." Hermione hands over a piece of parchment.

"Please, just...just read it." And then she leaves. Or at least, Harry thinks she does. She could have laid down next to him and he wouldn't have noticed.

Harry stares at the parchment for days. Then he turns it around and sees Draco's elegant handwriting, and he vomits. It hurts too much. He can see Draco writing at the kitchen table, his quill making soft scratching noises on the parchment. He can hear him sigh, and yawn. Smile when he notices Harry looking at him.

Harry thinks about cities and places for away. Places without Draco.

Then Harry focuses his eyes on the words. He reads.

* * *

He goes to visit Draco two weeks after receiving the note. He doesn't know what he'll see when he walks through the doors of St. Mungo's, but he doesn't expect anything.

Draco has a private room in the West Wing, which is more quiet and better guarded than the rest. Harry doesn't remember if he asked for it.

The Healer in charge of his case leads him to his office, pouring him tea and offering him something to eat. Harry declines, even though he can hear his stomach rumbling. The Healer doesn't push it.

"If I may say so, Mr. Potter, you look like hell." The Healer scratches the top of his head, looking sheepish.

"I am well aware of that. My friends like to keep reminding me." Harry reached for his tea cup, counting the quills on the Healer's desk to keep himself calm.

"Tell me about Draco."

But he doesn't really listen. He hears the words 'torture', 'pain', 'memory loss' and 'anger', and he just wants to run out of there. But he sits, and nods, and sips his tea, and he wonders for the 100th time if it was worth it.

"...this particular loss of memory doesn't need to be permanent, especially if he continues with his old life. It might trigger some memories and..."

...the pain he received while he was captured was too much for his body to handle, so he reacts really bad to any form of pain...

...we are not entirely sure if his memory loss was because of a curse or because of the pain he suffered. We aren't even sure what curses they have used on him, but there appear to be no side effects..."

Harry closes his eyes.

Draco was in so much pain. Harry sees a drop of water fall down into his tea cup, and he touches his face almost in awe, realising he is crying.

"What exactly doesn't he remember? And what does he remember?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. I wasn't aware that you haven't heard about his condition yet." The Healer eyes him cautiously, then continues talking.

"He remembers everything up until two years ago, around the time the two of you started a relationship. He doesn't remember what happened exactly; reality and imagination seemed to have mixed somehow. He also gets terrible headaches when he tries to remember, or when a memory seems to resurface. Every memory involving you is hard for him to think about."

After a long pause, the Healer scrapes his throat. Harry realises he doesn't even know his name.

"Are you okay, Mr. Potter?"

"I just want to see him."

* * *

Harry smiles in spite of himself when he sees Draco. He looks the same way as he does when he is stuck on a particularly hard case at work; his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair a mess, and his lips pressed together in a thin line. He's sitting on a chair at the table in the middle of the room, a quill behind his ear.

"Hey Draco." Harry breathes out his name. And he remembers all the times he has spoken Draco's name.

"Harry. I remember you." He sounds happy with that, and Harry feels something in his insides move. The dark shadow that has been inside of him begins to dissolve.

"I'm glad." Harry sits down in a chair next to him.

Draco moves his head to the side, crocking an eyebrow. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Why don't you tell me what the last thing you remember is?"

Draco sighs, twining his fingers together. He stays quiet for a long time and Harry takes his time to look around the room Draco is staying in. It is white, and peaceful. Harry doesn't hear any sounds or movement from outside.

"The problem is, I don't know what the last thing I remember is. I remember a lot of things, but they don't make sense to me. I don't know if something happened, and if it did, when it happened. I don't remember what is real and what is my imagination. I don't even know if you are real, in this moment."

Harry considers this for a moment. He didn't know if he was real or not. It all felt very dream-like, sitting next to Draco after missing him for months. He still smelled the same, looked the same. Maybe this was in his head. Maybe he was inside Draco's head. Maybe that is why he felt happy.

"I don't know what is real or what isn't, either." Harry sighed. He lifts his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and then Draco suddenly moved away from him. He staggered back until his back was pressed up against a wall, his eyes wide and filled with terror.

Harry looked at Draco, and then he looked at his raised hand. If this had been a film, then Harry would have walked towards Draco, apologising for his inconsiderate behaviour. He would have asked for forgiveness, maybe even cry a little. He would have gently reached for Draco's face, to show him he never wanted to hurt him. He would have waited until Draco relaxed, and then he would have slowly directed him back to the chairs. They would have talked. They would have cried. They would have laughed. Eventually they would have been okay. They would have loved each other again. Because that's what happens, movies get happy endings. Eventually, they would have gotten their happy ending.

But this isn't a movie, and Harry doesn't believe in happy endings. Not anymore. And he also realises that this is real, as real as life can possibly get. Because if this was his imagination, he wouldn't feel this empty. He wouldn't feel sad without warning, and Draco would laugh, and not be afraid of him.

He starts laughing. He balls his hands into fists, and starts laughing. And then he feels the tears again, and he can't find it in himself to stop. He lets out every ounce of frustration, of missing Draco, and he just sits on that damned chair, wishing he could walk away and never see Draco again. Because he cannot bear to see Draco look at him with those eyes, and not remember all the things that have happened between them. The good, the bad, the very best. The times they had spend in bed together, both calling in sick. Harry teaching him how to use the telly, Draco teaching him how to make better potions. The time they fought over the last piece of toast, and ended up shagging on the kitchen table. The time Draco had cried in his arms when his mother had passed away. He cannot accept it. He cannot accept that Draco would have so easily forgotten those wonderful memories between them.

So he walks away, and leaves that room, with the brightly coloured walls and bed sheets. And he wonders if he made the right choice, by walking away. But he finds that he doesn't care. That Draco is not the Draco he knew, and he doesn't even feel guilty for leaving, walking away from the man he had loved for years. And maybe that should bother him, but it doesn't. He just feels dead inside.

* * *

_**After**_

* * *

Malfoys never begged, or cried, or changed their opinion. But Draco wasn't a Malfoy, not anymore. So when he stood in front of the building where Harry James Potter lived, he realised that he would do all those things and more if he got answers.

Draco put his hands in his coat pockets and walked away.

* * *

Draco was in front of that building again. But this time he didn't feel sad, or humiliated. He was just very, very angry. So when a man came out and held the door open for him, he didn't even hesitate and he marched inside.

He climbed all the stairs. He stomped on the carpet, he slammed doors shut, he was fuming, and everybody should know.

He pounded on the door. When there was no answer, he raised his wand and blew the door to pieces.

"You left me!" Draco shouted. "You left me after I had been tortured for three months!"

With a flick of his wand, Draco disarmed Harry. He hurled himself across the room. He winced when his fist connected with the wall, still not used to pain.

"You left! I was alone, and confused, and fucking terrified, but you left anyway! Was is so hard on you to wait around, to maybe help me find myself again?"

"I was afraid that you never would," Harry rasped. "You were so afraid of me. I just couldn't watch you look at me like you did."

"Oh for fucks sake! You had no fucking right! I just wanted to make sense of what was happening! And you walked out on me the moment life got a little tough!"

"A little tough? I had been searching for you for 3 months! The first thing you said when you saw me was 'do I know you?', you didn't even remember we used to be together."

Draco shook his head. He moved away from Harry.

"We could have tried to fix this!"

"Fix what, Draco? You? You wanted me to help fix you?" Harry's voice was dangerously low, and he sounded even angrier than Draco felt.

"I can't just answer your questions and have you accept them! I can't give my own interpretation to your life! Because that would make me just like your father, and even you know how much you hate him for what he did! I can't just make you the way I see you, because you wouldn't have been yourself!" Harry was shouting now, his voice seemed to shake the small room they were standing in. His grief was evident in his features.

"All I wanted to do when I saw you that day was kiss you. Push you against a wall, and kiss the breath out of you, and feel your skin, and your scars, and have you react the way you usually do, because I think that even if you don't remember how we used to be, I know your body does! But I can't just do that to you. I can't. I can't..." Harry sank to his knees.

"I can't keep missing you, because it's so easy to pretend you're still here. I still feel you everywhere, and I spend all this time wondering if it was worth it, knowing how to love you, if it would be taken away from me later on. I just can't love you and have you look at me like I'd hurt you. Because that's the last thing I wanted to do."

"You left. How did that not hurt, Harry? What were you expecting to happen?" Draco wasn't going to feel sorry for him.

They stop talking, and the silence hangs in the air, suffocating Draco. He can't stay. He raises his wand and repairs the door, closing it behind him. He lets his body fall against the door with a thud, and then sinks to his knees until he's lying on the floor, tears streaming down his face. He doesn't know what to do anymore. He has tried to remember his relationship with Harry, but it hurts every time he thinks about him. He has tried. But Harry wasn't there for him, and that makes him wonder if the relationship they had was even worth going through all this trouble for.

Draco rises to his feet, and walks away.

* * *

Draco still lives in the place they used to live in together, Harry finds out days later. He walks up the familiar steps, but he can't find the strength to feel sad or nostalgic. He feels nothing.

He knocks on the door, and Draco opens it. They stare at each other for a moment, and then Harry takes the battered parchment from his pocket and hands it over to Draco. He knows the words by heart.

* * *

_Harry,_

_If I forget about you, forget about me. It's starting to get harder to remember. All I see over and over again is you, the way you laid before me the first time we were together. That particular memory only gets stronger and clearer, and I hope that I will be able to hold onto it._

_Knowing myself, I will probably get angry at you for forgetting about me, for leaving me behind. Please pay no attention to me. I don't deserve you if I don't remember you. Don't come and contact me. I don't know exactly what kind of curse they are using on me, but all I feel is pain, and I have a feeling it is connected to you. As long as I remember you, I will feel pain. I just want everything to be over. I thought I would have been stronger, to resist until you came for me, but I don't even know if you will be able to find me before I die. And I don't even know if I want to live, if it means I have to live without you. But I don't want to die either. I guess that in the end, Malfoy pride and strength mean nothing. In the end, it didn't matter that I chose differently, I will still get the end a Death Eater like me deserves._

_In all honesty, I don't even know why I am writing this. Maybe I just want to write down something that will tell me that I am still myself. I can still be myself, in a small way. I still remember who I was when I was with you. I was the best version of me when I was with you._

_I love you, Harry. But I need you to let me go, so that I can let you go, and that I will no longer feel pain._

_Draco._

* * *

"I don't remember writing this." Draco shuts his eyes tightly.

"I know you don't. But I'm still sorry for not listening to you. I don't think I have made your rehabilitation easier by dropping by, that day in the hospital."

"I'm not that person anymore, Harry. That person died in that cellar. So you can chose. You can chose me, even if I don't remember, and we can try again. Because I do remember loving you. I have loved you since that very first day you walked into my life. And that will never change." Draco wished he could have found the strength to find Harry earlier. Because now he realised that seeing him made him feel alive again, and that alone was enough reason for them to be together. It would be hard. But it would be worth it.

"Or you can walk away from me, and this time for real. You can never see me again, and I will never see you again. And I would understand that. I truly would. But I just feel like we owe this to ourselves, to try again."

Harry lifts his head and studies Draco's face carefully. Draco finds himself holding his breath, waiting Harry's reaction.

Tears start streaming down his face without warning. He tries to wipe them away with his sleeve, but Harry moves forward quickly, placing his hands on his face.

"I have never stopped loving you, Draco. But that is why we have to be careful not to move too fast, and to remember that we have to start all over again. And I am okay with that. I promise not to expect too much from you."

Draco smiles at him through his tears, and Harry has never seen Draco be so open, so himself, except for that first night they were together.

"_This will work. We will make it work," _he thinks to himself. They will find their way again.

* * *

_**At the end.**_

* * *

_(if you don't like unhappy/sad endings, maybe you shouldn't read this and stay happy)._

"Daddy, tell me about the dragon and his family again."

Harry smiled weakly, sitting down next to the small child. "Why do you like the story so much, Al? Isn't it really sad? You know mum will get mad at us if I tell it again."

"But it's important to know sad things as well, dad." Al looked at him with a stern expression, and Harry sighed.

"A long time ago, too long for anyone to remember, there was a really big, strong and beautiful dragon. He lived near the Hogwarts' grounds to protect the castle and its inhabitants, always making sure everybody was safe. That way, the dragon had a home, because he would chase all the bad guys away and no one would send him away. But the dragon felt sad, too, sometimes. He couldn't abandon the castle, but that meant he couldn't fly away and discover the world."

"But one day, the dragon wandered too far away from the castle, and he found other dragons, just as beautiful as him. And so the dragon decided it was better to stay there, with others that understood him and where he could be himself. And there he met another dragon, and they fell in love. They started a life together, and they were very, very happy."

Al giggled, smiling brightly at Harry. "This part always makes me happy."

Harry nodded. "Do you want me to finish the story?" He chuckled when his son immediately pressed his lips tightly together.

"But one day, the people from the castle were attacked, and they weren't protected by the dragon. And that made them very sad, and angry. So they went to find the dragon, taking him away from his family, to punish him for abandoning them. They put a curse on the dragon, so that he wouldn't remember his family. Every time he would try to remember, he would feel pain."

Harry's voice quivered slightly, but he pressed on nonetheless.

"The other dragons eventually found him, and took him home. But his family was really sad when they found out the dragon didn't remember them anymore, so they tried to ignore him to feel better. But that didn't work. After a while, they went to search for their dragon, and the dragon told them he never forgot about them, because he had always remembered that he loved them. So they started living together again. And they started to feel happy again."

"But one day, the dragon woke up screaming from pain. He was taken away to the Healer, who tried to figure out what was wrong. It turned out that the curse that was used on the dragon was to make him feel pain whenever he was touched and loved by his family. He could never be near them again without feeling a lot of pain. The curse was unknown, and there was no cure for the dragon. But because he had already been touched by his family a lot, he was in much pain. So he begged and begged his family to end his life, so that he would be free.

The dragon's family wasn't sure what to do. They loved him so much, and they were scared of living without him. But they couldn't let him suffer like that. It would be selfish, they decided, to let him live on in pain, just so that he could be with them. So they killed him, without any pain. And when they looked at his face, it was smiling, and he looked happy. They knew then they had made the right choice. But they wondered if meeting the dragon had been worth all this pain. They wondered if maybe it would have been easier if they had let him go back to his castle and not get him back. Or maybe it would have been easier never to have met him."

"Do you think it was worth it, dad?" Al's head fell to the side and he yawned again.

"Shhh, you go to sleep. I'll tell you tomorrow." Harry covered his son with an extra blanket and quietly exited the room, closing the door behind him.

He leaned against it and let his tears fall down his face, whispering quietly against the darkness.

"It really was worth it, wasn't it Draco?"

And Harry knows there won't be an answer. And maybe for Draco, it hadn't been worth it. Maybe he would have rather lived without pain, and without Harry.

But for Harry, Draco was worth everything.

* * *

**A/N: This story came to me when I in a pretty dark mood, so I apologize for the unhappiness in this story. I wrote it down in one day, and when I reread it I wasn't as happy with it as I originally was, but I decided to go for it anyways. **

**Amissis Memoria is the spell they used on Draco. It is a combination of a Memory Charm, love potion and the Cruciatus curse. Whenever Draco will remember Harry, or touched or loved by him, he will be in a lot of pain. ****It is Latin for "Losing your memory".**

**Draco found a piece of parchment and a Self-Inking Quill in his cell, left there by the person before him. **


End file.
